Writ in blood : a novel of Saint-Germain

by Yarbro, Chelsea Quinn, 1942-

  Chelsea Quinn Yarhro

  Reighert was standing in the hall outside an open door, staring into the room beyond; he held a smoking cigarette between his thumb and first finger of one hand, and a knife in the other. “Hurry up, can’t you?” he said with annoyance.

  In the next instant Ragoczy was behind him, one powerful small hand around his wrist above the knife, the other pressed into his throat, stopping breath and any movement at the same time. He increased the pressure. “Step back, Herr Reighert,” he said, so softly that not even Rowena heard him.

  Reighert obeyed at once, his eyes wild as he strove to determine who had attacked him. For an instant Ragoczy released his hold on Reighert s throat, allowing him to take a breath, then the inexorable fingers clamped down again.

  In the bathroom, Rowena looked up, and from behind her gag came a sound that would have been a cry. Then she blushed, realizing her situation, and turned away in confusion.

  “Herr Reighert,” Ragoczy continued in the same steady, quiet way, “I want you to get down on your knees. Now, Herr Reighert.”

  As Reighert moved to comply, he tried to make a swing with the knife, intending to put this unknown opponent on his mettle. The fingers around his wrist tightened sharply, and then the bones grated together; pain shot up Reighert’s arm and his eyes watered. “That was not wise, Herr Reighert.”

  Rowena had struggled to her feet, dragging herself erect by clinging to the sink. The first sensation was coming back to her legs, heralded by an unpleasant tingling which she knew from her three days of captivity would soon turn into agonizing cramps. She held onto the sink and stared as Ragoczy knelt beside Reighert, his hand still on Reighert s throat, his knee in the small of Reighert s back. Clutching the sink more firmly with one hand, she reached up with the other and removed her gag; she understood the necessity of keeping quiet, so she only murmured Ragoczy s name.

  Ragoczy glanced swiftly up at her, taking stock of her condition. Then he leaned back down and whispered to Reighert. “Your wrist is broken, and if I wanted to I could kill you. Do you understand.”

  The slight sound Reighert made indicated he did.

  “Good.” His silky undervoice was heard by no one other than Reighert. “Listen very carefully. I am going to tie you up and gag you, as you did Miss Saxon. If you can get out of your bonds, or if help arrives you will live, otherwise you will die.” He spoke a little bit louder.

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  “If you live, I recommend you throw yourself on the mercy of the authorities. Otherwise you may well share von Wolgast’s fate.”

  Spots were swimming in Reighert’s limited vision so that when Ragoczy once again permitted him to breathe he could only gasp. He felt Ragoczy s knee leave his back, and a moment later, Ragoczy hauled Reighert to his feet, his hand never leaving Reighert’s throat. With an ease that left Reighert astounded, Ragoczy carried him into the room where Rowena had been held, and rapidly tied him down. Suddenly Reighert kicked the floor violently.

  “You will have the opportunity to think over what you have done as you lie here,” Ragoczy said gently as he secured Reighert’s legs. “I recommend you put the time to prudent use.”

  “You’re not. . . going to kill me?” Reighert croaked, unable to raise his voice.

  “That would be too easy, and too quick,” Ragoczy said with a brief smile that filled Reighert with foreboding. “If you try to escape your punishment, I will find you and you will receive it at my hands.” Reighert tried to nod, but could not make his neck bend. He made a sound that he hoped Ragoczy would recognize as capitulation.

  “Count,” called Rowena from the hall as there was the sudden banging open of the front door. “He’s getting away.”

  Ragoczy stood upright, listening. There were running footsteps outside, and then the loud whinny from the horse in the barn. Realizing von Wolgast was escaping, Ragoczy flung himself out the window, somersaulting in the air to land on his feet; the pistol fell from his pocket. Wasting no time searching for the weapon, he ran toward the stable door, resolved to prevent this flight. Just as he reached the stable, von Wolgast emerged, mounted bareback on the coach horse, the animal’s lead ropes tied to the halter, creating clumsy but serviceable reins. “Von Wolgast!” Ragoczy shouted, and reached out to pull the man off his mount.

  But von Wolgast was prepared. He carried a mucking rake in one hand, and this he swung vigorously, burying the times in Ragoczy s side and knocking him down as von Wolgast kicked the horse from a trot to a canter.

  Ragoczy careened to his feet as he pulled free of the rake, and using it as a prop, he strove to remain upright while he mastered the agony possessing him. Gingerly he put his hand to his side and was not repelled by the blood he touched. Fortunately it was dusk; he would not be much weakened by the wounds. He glanced down the road, and

  Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  heard the hoofbeats fading. Tossing the rake away, he made his way back to the lodge, smarting as much from his failure to catch von Wolgast as from his injuries. As he climbed the stairs, he saw Rowena huddled at the top of the flight, Reighert s knife in her hand.

  “Oh, thank goodness!” she exclaimed as she dropped the knife and hurtled into his arms.

  He held her a while, soothing her and assuring her she was safe. “I could not stop von Wolgast,” he confessed when she could bear to release him. “But Reighert will not get away.”

  Her laughter was a bit wild. “I should think not. You have him trussed like a hog for market,” she managed to say before hilarity seized her again. She clung to the lapels of his coat as her glee turned to tears; he held her as she cried herself out, making no attempt to cajole or abjure her to cease, giving her what time she needed to find her own cessation point. Only then did he lass her, his mouth touching hers with abiding kindness that complimented the passion shared by them both.

  When she drew back, he looked directly into her golden eyes, seeing how exhausted she was. “I fear we have a long way to go tonight,” he said, and when he felt her worry spring afresh, he went on, “If you cannot walk, I can carry you.”

  “What?” she asked with shaky amusement, “Can’t you fly?” “Regrettably, no. I agree it would come in handy just now,” he said, shaking his head in chagrin. “It is some distance to Madem.”

  “Can’t we stay here?” she pleaded, afraid to undertake what she knew to be an arduous march. “Surely someone will find us.”

  “You mean that von Wolgast will send help?” he suggested, one brow raising sardonically. He held her close again. “Once we reach Madem, the worst will be over: believe this.” He bmshed the tangled wisps of strawberry blonde back from her bruised face. “It will not be much longer, Rowena.”

  She pressed her head to his shoulder and nodded, saying, “What about—” She pointed toward the room where Reighert was tied.

  “We will arrange for the police to retrieve him,” he promised her. “Come. I want to be driving by dawn.”

  Only then did she realize he was hurt; she gave a wail of dismay. “How can you do it? You can’t ...” She set her jaw tenaciously. “Leave me here and come back for me. I don’t mind. Truly I don’t. I have the knife, and there must be guns about.”

  “And give von Wolgast another opportunity?” he asked. “I would take Reighert with us if I could manage it, but—” he broke off with a gesture of resignation.

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  She lowered her eyes. “I don’t know that I can. My feet are . . . swollen.”

  “As long as it is night, I can carry you,” he told her, with such conviction that she let herself be persuaded.

  “Then we had best leave at once, before I change my mind,” she said, gathering her courage to face what she knew would be a harrowing several hours.

  “Good for you,” Ragoczy approved as he started back down the stairs, half-carrying, half-guiding her as their exigent trudge began.

  Text of a telegram from Francho
t Ragoczy sent from Steinach, Austria to his manservant Roger via Hausham Railway Station in Bavaria.

  R Saxon safe stop Inform Blau parents of events stop Advise B must detain von Wolgast stop Returning before midnight stop Have food clothes medicine etc ready stop Thank RBfor automobile stop

  F. Ragoczy

  8

  Looking up from the telegram Roger handed to him, Inspector Blau came close to smiling for the first time since his arrival at Schloss Saint-Germain the night before, worn out from a long day of travel. “The Austrians have agreed to hand Reighert over to us. They are satisfied that we have prior claim to him, and to prosecuting him,” he announced in English to the study at large; telegrams had been filling the wires between Bavaria and Austria on an almost hourly basis for the last six hours.

  “I hope you put him in prison forever,” said Rowena with a loathing so intense that she sat back in shock. In her casual gored skirt and pullover tunic of bottle-green twill, with an ivory cotton blouse beneath, she seemed very much like a woman on holiday—or she did until you looked into her eyes or noticed the marks on her face.

  Ragoczy came up behind her chair and laid his small, well-shaped hand on her shoulder. “He will.” The ache in his side had nearly subsided, and the only sign of discomfort he revealed came more from the midday sunlight streaming in the windows than the now-faded damage

  the fork tines had done. By the end of the month the impressions would fade, leaving no trace.

  “Yes, we will, Miss Pearce— Saxon,” said Blau after a quick glance at Ragoczy. “Thanks in no small part to your presence of mind. I have not often encountered a woman of such fortitude as you possess. Your statements have been concise and sufficiently detailed to allow us to find excellent corroboration.” He did his best not to stare at the green-edged livid bruise on her face.

  “Corroboration; it is hardly enough,” said Rowena. “I wish I could testify against him. Against them both.”

  “With what we may learn from this Reighert, it will not be necessary,” Blau said at once; his English was heavily flavored with German and bookish in delivery, but he managed it better than Rowena did German. “I am persuaded you would not want to undertake anything that would bring you notoriety, as such testimony must. Questions would be asked that you would not be able to answer modestly. Your family would not want to see you exposed in open court, your indignities reported in the yellow press. I am sure you would find the whole experience distressing.”

  Rowena raised her head. “Being held captive by von Wolgast was ... distressing,” she said, throwing the word back at him. “Seeing him answer for it might be unpleasant but the satisfaction of bringing him down would more than compensate for a few snide remarks in print.” She stared down at her laced fingers. “They have not found von Wolgast, have they?”

  “Not yet,” said Blau, the admission feeling like failure. “The Austrians are keeping careful watch, but—”

  “But he could have been gone three days ago, as soon as he left his lodge: yes, I know. He could have had a plan to get away from the first, after he had killed me or left me to die. He told me more than once that was what he intended to do: let me die of cold and thirst.” Rowena made no apology for her sharp tone, or for going on, “You cannot think a man of his cut would falter at taking shelter with your enemies, or arranging to go abroad where he could not be found, or brought back to stand his trial if he were. You know as well as I that there are those who would assist him because of his standing in the world, and others who would welcome the chance to have him gone from Germany. Between the two, he could be anywhere, with his fortune to buy him speed and secrecy. Why should he wait for the police to come for him, or linger where he could be taken and charged? I’m sure any sensible man would leave the region as soon as he could. By now, he could

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  be at the far end of the Orient Express, could he not?”

  “Yes, he could,” said Blau, letting his bitterness show.

  “But you will find him, won’t you? You will not relent because he may get away now?” Rowena demanded, knowing her voice was too shrill. Her outbursts were troubling to her, and this one was no exception. Only Ragoczys assurance that speaking them now would spare her later suffering kept her from maintaining the semblance of composure. “He is powerful, with powerful friends, and not just here in Germany. Powerful men can demand things the rest of us cannot He will try to avoid apprehension; it is typical of criminals to want to elude capture, and a rich criminal can put many stumbling blocks in your way. He boasted of how he has been able to suborn men in crucial positions to do his bidding. They might still be compelled to aid him. You will not let him get away because he is Baron von Wolgast, will you? He will be arrested?”

  “Of course,” said Blau. “We are making every effort.” He paused. “Miss Saxon, I realize this is not much comfort, but given the gravity of his acts, his position in life will not be able to save him from the consequences. On that you may repose complete confidence. He will not go free in the world, no matter who he is by birth and fortune. His crimes are sufficiently grave to put him beyond privilege.” He gave a short little bow and turned to Ragoczy, speaking in German. “I will have to go tomorrow to take this Reighert in hand. The paperwork will be ready the day after, and I will be there to escort him. From Innsbruck we will go by rail directly back to Berlin, keeping this Reighert under guard and chained for the whole journey. I will not have to take advantage of your hospitality again.” He had moved to the comer of the room and lowered his voice, and indicated that Ragoczy should do the same.

  “You are more than welcome to command it at any time, Inspector, whether I am here or not. I will leave instructions with my staff to receive you as my guest at your convenience.” Ragoczy indicated the door across the study leading into the hall. “And pursuant to hospitality, there will be a luncheon laid on the buffet in the dining room in half an hour or so; I hope you will avail yourself of it. Mister Bowen is coming downstairs today, and will be glad of company at table; at present he and Miss Saxon are not comfortable in one another’s company. I believe luncheon is eels broiled with bacon. Gualtier is very good with eels, I am told.” His courteous conduct held Blau’s attention.

  “For a man whom I very nearly put in prison, you’re being remarkably gracious,” said Blau. “Mind you, I’m not objecting; you’re a most

  Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  helpful fellow and this Schloss is as pleasant a place as anyone could ask for. But not many men would be as well-disposed to the police as you are; I am curious as to why you should be so willing to extend these courtesies to me after what 1 have subjected you to.”

  Ragoczy smiled slightly. “Inspector Blau, you strike me, and have struck me from the first, as a fair man, one who is more interested in seeing justice done than in bringing glory on himself. As I have learned in my life, those qualities are lamentably rare. When I discover them, I like to do my best to acknowledge them. Furthermore, it is in my best interests to see that my name is wholly cleared, which is not likely to happen if the real culprit remains at large.”

  Blau gave a nod of acceptance. “Very noble of you. I’m sure, and very pragmatic.” He hesitated. “Yet I am not convinced those are your only reasons.”

  “No, they are not,” said Ragoczy with such candor that Blau stared at him. “I am hoping that by being reassured that Reighert and von Wol-gast will be held to account, Miss Saxon will not have to live in fear of either man. If they are not made to answer for what they have done, she will not be free of them, and she will lose faith in justice. She has suffered enough at their hands, and, I fear, on my account.” He noticed the faint look of surprise in Blau’s eyes, though his face remained impassive. “Do you think she would not be afraid?”

  “A well-bred girl, carefully raised,” Blau mused aloud. “I suppose she might be inclined to apprehension.” He coughed diplomatically. “All the more reason for her not to appear at
a trial, wouldn’t you think?” “No,” said Ragoczy bluntly. “Quite the reverse, in fact.”

  “Then on that, we must disagree,” said Blau, taking his notebook from his breast pocket and his pen from the pocket of his vest. He unscrewed the cap and prepared to write. “While I have the opportunity, I will want a few matters cleared up.”

  “Ask anything you like, Inspector.” Ragoczy said, knowing the debate would accomplish nothing of use; then he glanced back at Rowena, saying to her in English, “Do you mind if we attend to—”

  “Please. Carry on. I think I will go out onto the terrace for a little while. It is such a nice day.” Her smile was not quite genuine, and marred by the fading bruise, but she stood up without giving in to her still-aching muscles.

  “Pluck to the backbone,” Ragoczy said to her, pride in his penetrating eyes.

  “I should hope so,” she said to him. “Inspector, we will meet in the dining room?”

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  “I look forward to it, Miss Saxon,” he told her.

  As soon as she left the study, Ragoczy said to Blau. “You can see my reason for concern for her, can you not?”